Baltimore, Maryland

October 18

Luka Madison carefully set the breakfast tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, instinctively matching her breathing to the slow rise and fall of Hayley Ward’s chest. Their nearly three years together had been the most blissful she’d ever known, and with any luck, they’d soon have a new reason to celebrate their union.

“Time to get up, honey.” She gently brushed a lock of strawberry blond hair away from Hayley’s face. She wished they could spend the day together, but Hayley had to cover an important congressional committee meeting for the Baltimore Dispatch in a couple of hours.

Hayley groaned and snuggled deeper under the plush comforter. “Ten more minutes.”

“Your pancakes will get cold.”

Hayley cracked open one eye and spotted the breakfast tray. Yawning, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and rested her back against the headboard. “You’re just too good to me. I can’t wait to see how you spoil me when—”

The jarring ring of Luka’s cell phone startled them both. Hayley frowned when Luka checked the caller ID and nodded. They’d talked about the likelihood that the EOO would summon her again, though she’d only been home a few days from her last mission. The news was full of the growing pandemic, and Hayley had written several virus-related stories for the paper. But both had hoped it wouldn’t happen this soon.

“Sorry, honey.” Luka grabbed the phone and kissed Hayley’s forehead before heading toward the living room to take the call. She trusted Hayley totally, but the secrecy was for Hayley’s own safety. She flipped open the phone. “Domino,” she answered, relaying her operative code number as required.

Montgomery Pierce was his usual succinct self. That man wasted no words on occasions like this. “Andrews. Tomorrow. Oh-seven-hundred hours.” Andrews Air Force Base, just an hour away from Hayley’s two-bedroom apartment, was Luka’s most frequent jumping-off point for missions, especially overseas.

“Are we protected against this?” she asked.

“Not completely.”

“Didn’t think so.” She was silent for several moments, and to her surprise, Pierce waited patiently. Finally, she said, “I’ll be there.”

“Domino?”

“Sir?”

“Take care of…matters.” Montgomery Pierce seldom if ever sounded worried. If he was asking her to ‘take care of matters,’ he wanted her to let Hayley know that this was a high-risk operation with less than usual guarantees.

“I intend to.” She flipped the cell closed and turned to find Hayley poised at the doorway, watching her. Her heart broke at Hayley’s worried expression. Luka went to her, and they embraced without words for several long moments.

“How long will you be gone?” Hayley whispered.

“However long it takes. Too long.”

Venice, Italy

“Must you?”

“I must,” Mishael Taylor told her lover, Kristine Marie-Louise Van der Jagt, who was comfortably sprawled on a lounge chair on their villa balcony. “You know how cranky I get when I don’t get my horsepower fix. I won’t be long.”

“If you get another ticket, they’ll confiscate the boat,” Kris reminded her unnecessarily. “And I don’t like you taking such risks right now.”

Kris’s protective attitude warmed Misha; it had blossomed into near-paranoia as the virus swept toward them from all directions. She understood the feeling all too well because she was just as determined that Kris stay safe. They hadn’t ventured outside since she’d returned from her last mission four days ago and were having their groceries delivered.

She looked out over the canal in front of the villa. This time of day, it should be crowded with gondolas, delivery barges, and private vessels of every description. But in the last hour, they’d seen only two wood-trimmed water taxis, a lone floating greengrocer, and a police boat on patrol.

“Hardly anyone’s on the water. Just a few ripples, I promise.” Kris was right. She’d ignored the canal speed limit too often. The local cops knew her Lancia speedboat on sight now and she refused to give them any reason to confiscate it. She’d force herself to drive slowly until she got beyond the city limits and out on the open water. As she bent down to kiss her lover good-bye, her cell phone rang.

Kris sat up abruptly, her features darkening. “Is it…?”

Reluctantly, Misha checked the caller ID and nodded. Retreating into the house out of earshot, she flipped open the phone and sighed loudly into the receiver before identifying herself. “Allegro 020508. So, has the plague put a damper on your love life?” In truth, she thought it was wonderful that Monty Pierce and Joanne Grant had finally gotten together after who knew how many years of denying their attraction because of EOO rules that banned fraternization. But she enjoyed poking fun at her straight-laced boss.

“Are you fully mobile?” he replied.

She’d sprained her ankle a week earlier jumping off a second-story balcony in Turkey. But she’d been taking it easy since her return home, lounging in bed or on the terrace, and was almost back to normal. “No. Right now a beautiful woman is pinning me to a vertical position.”

“Allegro—”

“Oh, you mean have I recovered? Yeah, sure.”

“Be at Aviano by nineteen-hundred hours tomorrow,” Pierce said. The nearest U.S. Air Force base to their Venice home was roughly sixty-five miles away, a ninety-minute drive for most people. But Misha routinely covered the distance in half the time in the Bugatti Veyron she kept garaged on the mainland.

“Let me guess,” she said cheekily.

“No.”

“I’m about to live dangerously, not that that’s a challenge, and ignore that,” Misha replied. “So, the excrement made physical contact with a hydroelectric-powered, oscillating-air-current distribution device. In other words, the shit’s hit the fan regarding a certain deadly virus and you want me to find out who put it out there?”

“Be there.”

The man had no sense of humor at all.

“Yes, master. I hear and obey.”

Chapter Thirteen

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 665